


Daddy Issues (pt. 1) - One Fierce Bender

by NathanY



Series: Sketchy, but in a good way [1]
Category: Scion (Tabletop RPG)
Genre: Canon Backstory, Gen, TBD IC Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 04:21:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7153307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NathanY/pseuds/NathanY
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which our hero discovers erroneous assumptions made about the hired help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Daddy Issues (pt. 1) - One Fierce Bender

Poppy awakened from a blissful slumber to the quiet murmurs of a city park at night, the smell of new rain and wet earth in his nostrils. As he yawned and stretched, his first conscious thought was "Wow, I feel fantastic!" Closely followed by his second thought "Wait...that can't be right."

As he stood and surveyed the park around him, his memories of the evening came back. The din of the band, the ringing in his ears, the elbows flying in the pit, some drinks, some bennies, some turinals, and...Jimmy had given him something new, said he'd made it himself. It must have been one hell of a hangover cure! Still, it didn't explain why he couldn't remember the rest of the show, or how he'd gotten to this...park? No, this cemetery. That was definitely a tombstone the fellow in the black hat was sitting on.

Unstartled, Poppy squinted at the figure...a black man, no older than 40 and physically strong, was perched easily atop the stone. He wore tails and a top hat pulled low, hiding his face. The silver skull cane added a nice touch. Poppy appreciated a flashy dresser - he was pretty sure he was going to like this fellow.

The man lifted his head just enough to show a thousand-watt grin below his hat brim. Out of his jacket he pulled a silver pocket flask, from which he took a long swig before stretching out his arm and offering it to Poppy.

That settled it - Poppy definitely liked this fellow.

Poppy accepted the flask with a grin of his own, and took a long drink. The rum tasted like perfection itself, light and sweet, with just a hint of...peppers? Hot peppers! VERY. HOT. PEPPERS. Eyes watering, Poppy handed back the flask and failed desperately to suppress his cough. So much for keeping his cool.

The figure chuckled, a deep basso full of dried leaves and tombstones. He lifted his head, and looked Poppy full in the face. "Bon soir, mon fils."

The white skull painted on the man's face certainly caught Poppy's attention. It took him a moment to even register the French. Poppy cast back through memories of his college days. "Bon soir a vous, monsieur. Je m'appelle Poppy. Uh...quel est votre nom?"

The skull-faced man's smile widened. "I know who you are," he lilted in island-accented English. "I been watchin' you. I am the Baron Samedi, Baron de le Croix, Baron Cimitiere, Uncle Kriminel...I am your father."

Poppy eyed the pale skin on the back of his hand, bemused. "I find that highly unlikely. Who are you, really?"

"The Baron Samedi never hides who he is. Don't worry about bein' white, genetics don't mean a thing when the gods get involved. Didn't you ever wonder who your real papa was, all those years watching your parents fight about it?"

Poppy shrugged. "I always assumed it was the pool boy."

The Baron laughed with genuine amusement. "You really think you got that charm from the pool boy? Or that trick that tells you what somebody was overdosing on just by laying hands on them? Didn't you ever wonder why you always knew when someone was going to die, even when they looked healthy?"

That hit a bit close to home for Poppy, close enough that he was no longer amused. "Look mister, I don't know where you get your information, but we're done here. Nice hat. I'm going back to the party." Poppy turned to walk away.

"Mmmmm, not a good idea. Back at the party, you are dead."

That stopped Poppy in his tracks...Dead? Not possible. He was here, upright and talking in a city park. Cemetery. Poppy's eyes cast around for something familiar, reassuring. They came to rest on a shovel, lying across a pile of freshly-turned dirt at the man's feet. Suddenly, it didn't seem like just an innocuous bit of scenery. Dead? How?

And then it hit him. Jimmy's pill.

Shit.

Well, that explained why he couldn't remember leaving the party. As the rest of the obvious fell into place, Poppy began to get the feeling he'd seen this movie before. He was dead, but he was talking to a supernatural entity. That could only mean...

"So, I presume you have a deal to offer?"

The Baron grinned from ear to ear. "You are a quick one, son of mine, healer of ills, taker of pain, thrower of killer parties." The Baron's dark eyes sparkled. "You have many gifts. But they don't mean anything to you. You waste your time doin' things you think should be fun, but still you feel empty because they've got no meaning. Because you have no purpose."

Poppy snorted. Telling people all about themselves based on nothing but obvious stereotypes was one of Poppy's favorite dirty tricks to play on boring people at parties. He opened his mouth to object, but the ironic retort stuck in his throat...because he realized the Baron was exactly right.

Fuck me, Poppy thought, am I really that obvious?

The Baron smirked and nodded, as if he knew exactly what was running through Poppy's head. "The deal is, I'm going to give you your purpose. A job with meaning. You gonna be my eyes, my ears, and my hands. You gonna be my cheval. We will do good works among the faithful. You gonna be a hero."

"Sounds...complicated."

"We will make sure you succeed. The Loa take care of their own."

The non-answer was...strangely reassuring, actually. But there was the obvious question: "What if I say no?"

The Baron shrugged. "Then nothing happens, and you go back to the party."

Ah, so that's how it is, thought Poppy. "Doesn't sound like much of a choice."

"You always have a choice. Just not always a good one."

Poppy pondered for a moment. If this was real, the Baron was making a good offer...life, and a worthwhile direction to take it in. And if it wasn't, well...hell of a last dream, right? A bit of a smirk slid back onto Poppy's face.

"What about my immortal soul? You get that as part of the deal, I suppose?"

The Baron flashed his impossibly white teeth in a grin. "You can keep it. I am the Baron of the Cemetery, not the angel of darkness. The Loa are on the side of the light."

Definitely the best offer Poppy was going to get tonight. "Well then Baron Saturday, Baron of the Cross, Baron of the Cemetery, Uncle Criminal...I accept."

The Baron smiled his widest smile, jumped down from his perch, took off his hat, and made a little mock bow. "Welcome to de Family Guede. We will do great things, you and I." The Baron put his icy hand on Poppy's shoulder, closed his eyes for a moment, and inhaled. "That should take care of the pill from Jimmy. Now, go back and enjoy your party. We will talk again soon."

And just like that, the Baron began to fade away, along with the cemetery, Poppy, and everything else, until only darkness remained.

* * *

Poppy awakened with a start and sat bolt upright, sucking in two giant lungfulls of air. His head was pounding, his ears were ringing, his ribs ached, and his shoulders felt like a hundred pound weight was hung around his neck. Somewhere to his right, much too close, the band was winding up their set. Jimmy and a crowd of onlookers were standing over him, aghast.

Poppy looked around, and rubbed his neck. "Yep, that's more like what I expected. Ow."


End file.
